


No Need To Rush

by Hazzalovescarrots



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Architect Major!Harry, Artistic Harry, M/M, Photography Major!Louis, Sort of stalkerish, University AU, uni - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazzalovescarrots/pseuds/Hazzalovescarrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is an architect major and he likes drawing a certain boy that he spots on the footie field at his University.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Need To Rush

**Author's Note:**

> Pictures that Harry's drawings are based on: http://support-the-ships.tumblr.com/post/66116944655/for-my-new-fic  
> Tumblr: Support-the-ships

“The Tommo is back!”

   Harry starts. He blinks over to the field from his position on the bleachers. He pauses in his drawing to see three boys kicking a ball between them. The one by the goal has gloves on his hands, black jeans low on hips and his dark hair in a quiff. He and another boy with blond hair and gray sweats and a white t-shirt, laugh at the boy who had shouted.

   That particular boy is wearing black shorts and a white jersey shirt. ‘Tomlinson’ is printed over the back, along with the number 17. The light drizzle of rain has his hair glistening and hanging in a fringe over his forehead. His socks are pulled up to the knee and he has standard, studded football shoes. He is insanely attractive, Harry thinks. Just the graceful swoops and curves of his back, hips and thighs show when he aims and kicks the ball with full force toward the net. The goalie jumps towards it but narrowly misses and ‘Tomlinson’ falls to his knees, arms outstretched and head tilted back, openly accepting the tiny drops of rain.

   “I’m back!” he shouts and Harry smiles. He bites his lip for a moments, takes a sip from his thermos with hot chocolate and then flips to a new page in his book. The pages are a little wet from the rain and people may call Harry crazy, but he enjoys the rain. It helps him think and it refreshes his mind in a way. He picks up a coal liner and, memorizing a certain position of Louis’ body, he drags it over the page in swift lines. He draws the contours of Louis’ back, along with his gracefully outstretched arms and his leg which is bent back. This boy is surprisingly flexible. His eyes are focused on the ball and his wrists are limp.

   Harry’s toes are beginning to freeze inside his boots, but he is determined to stay and finish his drawing. He gets a rough draft of it, just the outline of his body and a few shadows, the letters of his name and number on his shirt and the shade of his socks. He finishes his hot chocolate and feels the warmth settle in his stomach. He can’t get the boy’s face right. He is too far away for that, but before packing his stuff and leaving for class, he adds the long strands of his hair.

***

Harry is an architecture major. Most of his lessons, he just draws and designs buildings he’d like to help create. He takes courses in Sociology and English on the side, along with art. He’s thinking of adding a photography class on that, too, but would rather have a bit of spare time instead.

   He shares a dorm room with his mate Liam. That man is a menace. He wants everything squeaky clean and in order and—Harry won’t say it to his face—but he is really high-maintenance.

   Harry shrugs his bag over his shoulder as he makes his way over campus to the copy room. He’s printed out a few drafts of his buildings to put in a portfolio for class. The air is thin and has a bite to it. It whips over Harry’s cheeks and rips through his coat. He carries his black book in his left hand, clutching it hard to keep the loose papers from falling out. It’s the one he draws in and he is very fond of it. If he were to lose it, he’d be lost, too.

   He shivers when he pushes through the double doors, entering the cool hallway. At least it’s a heck of a lot warmer than outside. He tugs his collar closer around his neck and trudges around the mass of people coming from their classes.  He heads towards the copy room and closes the door behind him. He drops his bag and sets his book on a table and rubs his hands together. He gathers his prints from the copy machine across the room and is about to turn to get his portfolio out of his bag but bumps into a body trying to get to it. He drops his prints and they slide over the floor.

   “Oops,” Harry mutters. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t look where I was going.”

   “Hi,” The person he bumped into says, humour laced in his syrupy voice. “It’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have sneaked up like that.”

   Harry looks up and just about panics. It’s the boy from the football field; the one who Harry took his time drawing. He gapes at the boy who has the bluest eyes he’s ever seen and a radiant smile. Instead of his football gear, he has tight black jeans and a red band t-shirt. He is wearing no socks, Harry notices, amused. His hair is sticking up a little and his fringe covers his eyes as he bends down to help Harry pick his prints up. He notices that the boy’s caramel brown hair curls at the neck and Harry thinks it’s really cute. He shakes himself out of it and reaches out for his prints that cover the floor.

   “I’m, um, Harry.”

   The boy smiles and holds his hand out. “Louis. Pleasure to meet you.” Harry notices how his own hand dwarfs Louis’ and is close to blushing. He takes the pictures that Louis is giving him while simultaneously pulling the boy up from the floor with him.

   “Pleasure’s all mine,” Harry blurts and then sheepishly stuffs his prints under his arm. Louis beams and the corners of his eyes crinkle. Harry thinks that he’s never really seen a shade of blue that clear before. They shine a cerulean color and they resemble the sea or the lightness of the sky during the brightest day.

   “Alright then,” Louis says and then nods towards the pictures Harry is bracing between his arm and side. “Did you draw those?”

   Harry pulls them from his grip and skims through them for Louis to see. “Uh, yeah. I’m an architecture major. It’s sort of what I do”

   Harry wants to go bang his head against a wall; he feels that stupid. Louis only grins bigger, though and raises an eyebrow. At least he looks impressed when he sees the drawings.

   “These are great. Your teachers must love you. I’m a photography major. I was here to get my pictures actually.”

   Louis passes him with a slight brush of his hand and Harry can feel goose bumps rise at the light touch. The shorter boy comes back with a folder, stuffing the photos inside. Harry catches a glimpse of black and white.

   “Nice bumping into you, then,” Louis says with a smile and Harry just nods and waves stupidly, a silly grin nearly cracking his face. Louis laughs and backs out of the room, waving back. Harry thinks he might reconsider taking one of those photography courses.

***

Harry is obsessed. At least, that’s what Liam tells him.

   He’s been out to the field almost three times a week, settling down in the very back of the bleachers. He’s been watching Louis and that sounds so creepy in every way, but he just can’t resist. It’s the architect in him that wants to trace all the curves and gentle swoops of that boy’s body and set them on paper.

   He’s up to four drawings, now. He has spent the time in the bleachers just drawing, lining the contours of Louis’ body with coal and shading in the darkness of his hair and the lightness of his eyes. Up to now, Louis has worn the same gray beanie three times, his fringe tucked up into it. He looks adorable just kicking the ball into the net and cheering loudly, taunting his friends, Niall and Zayn, who Harry has learned the names of by hearing Louis shout them in victory.

   All of those drawings are hidden in his black book and it makes him even more protective of it and he carries it with him wherever he goes, not letting it out of his sight for a second. He refuses to let Liam touch it. He keeps it by his side and when he is in class, sketching designs for his buildings, he’ll sometimes see his drawings of Louis and he’ll smile to himself. Then, he’ll shake it off, accusing himself of stalking and he’ll just flip over to a fresh page and put his ideas in that beloved book.

   So, people should understand his reasons for being panicked when he spots Louis at the campus café, sitting with Niall and Zayn, joking and laughing. Harry freezes for a moment and grabs hold of Liam’s arm. The older boy looks over to where he is staring and then, rolls his eyes.

   “Is that the boy you’ve been obsessing over? You were right, he is pretty,” Liam comments and Harry hits him over the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

   “He’s mine,” Harry says determinedly and when Liam gives him a look, he stomps off towards the counter to order his usual. Liam comes up behind him with an annoyed huff and orders the same.

   “You’ve barely talked to him. Yet, you have the greatest crush in the world on him. It’s not healthy.”

   Before Harry can say anything back, Liam shrugs and heads off to find them a table. Harry sighs and sets his black book down on the counter. He drags his hands over his face. Maybe Liam is right. Maybe he is getting too obsessed.

   “Greatest crush in the world?” It comes from beside Harry and he jumps back, startled. It is Louis. “Sounds pretty serious. Who is it?”

   “I-I…uh,” Harry stutters out and his mouth flops open and closed like a fish. “It’s nothing, just someone I’ve…uh.”

   Harry can’t think. He can feel Louis’ hot gaze run over his body and it is too much of a distraction. He completely forgets what he was planning to say and he swallows hard before hurrying out the door. Louis is left standing alone by the counter, expression confused as he watches Liam scurry after him.

   Harry’s hands are stuffed down his pockets as he makes his way towards the little park in the middle of campus. He can hear Liam trailing after him, but he is keeping his distance and Harry appreciates that. He needs air. He can’t believe that he panicked in there. He completely froze up and couldn’t get words out. Louis has been the object of his affection for three weeks now and he just can’t wrap his head around that the boy that he’s been drawing in his black book had stood before him. Harry eyes widen as he repeats the thought of his black book over and over in his head.

   _Shit,_ Harry thinks and his heart crawls up into his throat. _My black book._

   He’d left it at the café. On the counter. For Louis to see. He could easily have seen half of them already and seen the drawing of him. _Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit._

   He doesn’t dare go back, in fear of facing humiliation. He just sprints to his apartment, wrenches the door open and collapses on his bed, burrowing his face in the pillow, groaning out in frustration. Within the hour, he has fetched ice-cream from the fridge, the biggest spoon he has from the separate drawer. Liam keeps his own spoons in a separate plastic box. Harry asked about them the very first day they’d moved in and has regretted it ever since. Liam has weird fears and habits.

   Harry dresses in the softest and baggiest clothes he has and ignores Liam's pitiful glances as he trudges back to his room. Liam might think he is over-exaggerating, but that book is the most precious thing he has and losing it to the very person he wanted to keep it from is the worst thing that could’ve happened.

   So, he mopes.

***

Harry can’t bring himself to buy a new book.

   He stands in front of the art section in the bookshop and is going through a very rough time picking a new one. He stresses over them and scrutinizes every single one. If Liam were here, he’d just have taken one from the bunch and dragged him over to the cashier. But, Harry is different. He obsesses over random stuff and takes inanimate objects, like a book, into care and he fawns over it, cherishes it.

   It has been about a week since he’d left his black book at the café and he spends his time just walking around campus. His steps always keep making their way to the field, but he keeps stopping himself and turning the other way. It has become a habit, it seems, to go and sit down in the bleachers, open his book and take out a few pencil and coal liners. That worries Harry, just a bit.

   He gives up and takes one from the bunch, in a try to be like Liam. He is sure it is the exact same as the previous one and brings it over to the counter to pay.

   On the way out of the shop, he bumps into a figure, clutching a football under his arm and a familiar gray beanie.

   “Oh, sorry, mate! I didn’t-“ The boy stops talking and Harry is frozen to the spot. Louis. “Oh, hi. I’ve been looking for you actually. I believe I have something that belongs to you.”

   Louis bends down to set the football between his knees. He digs around in his bag and Harry breathes out when it turns out to be his book. He looks down to the plastic bag that hangs from his fingers and mentally curses irony.

   “Don’t run away from me, now,” Louis says with a smirk and holds the book out. Harry takes it and opens his mouth. Nothing comes out, so he just bites his lip and sheepishly gazes down at Louis. His gut wrenches and his heart stops beating for a millionth of a second when the next words fly out of Louis’ mouth. “I like your drawings. They are very…in-detail.”

   Harry doesn’t pull away and he still can’t utter any words when Louis reaches up on his toes and kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth. He does, however, let out a strangled laugh when he opens the book up and his eyes land on the front page.

   _You’re very good. Maybe you could draw me sometime ;),_ it says with Louis’ number along with it. This boy is a cheeky little shit, not to mention sarcastic and Harry can't help but feel extremely giddy inside.    

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a short thing and I really hoped you liked it xx


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